Adult Comfort
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Adult comfort is very different than the childhood kind; it's much more physical than playing with toys and hiding under the covers. .:. human!Woody otherwide known as Wesley and Andy lemon oneshot, written on request; I stress the word LEMON. Enjoy? LOL?


**A/N: I counted the requests in my reviews, you know. There were five people who wanted – or "wouldn't mind" – some smut between Andy and Wesley. And so, I decided to give it to those people, since I think it would be something sweet I could write. :D**

**Clearly, this takes place after all of my previous WesXAndy stories. XD**

**P.S. I think I'm going to live on Silk-brand soymilk when I'm older. Just sayin'. ;P #takes a sip of choco-flavored and hums at yumminess# …Yup, I most definitely will never buy normal milk again (unless it's for baking). LOL.**

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"It's turnin' into a blizzard out there!" Wesley sputters as he comes tumbling in through Andy's dormitory room. He shrugs some snow off of his coat onto the hallway floor; not caring that it will melt and leave water stains on the ugly carpet.

The younger brunet laughs. "I suppose a New Mexican man like yourself is unfamiliar with snow, huh?"

"I'm not very 'ccostumed to it, no," Wes agrees with a shivering frown. "An' I hope you have something warm I can drink."

"Oh, don't worry," Andy says with another laugh, "I made sure to make some coffee for you before you came over. I figured that you'd get cold."

Wesley smiles and leans forward to give Andy a peck in his soft hair before setting his coat on a hanger to dry out. "You know me too well, partner."

They maneuver around the small single-person dorm to the coffee maker and microwave, a sort of makeshift kitchen. There is a small stand-up-TV-tray to act as a counter, and a small sink built into the wall for teeth brushing, dish washing, and the like. It's customary at this school, just like the desk beneath the high-rise bed. Andy likes his bed, actually; it's like the bunk bed he's never had, minus the roommate to go along with it.

"Here you are," Andy says, handing Wesley a freshly poured mug of coffee. He already added the cream and sugar, knowing full well how much of each Wes likes. "Careful, though; it's hot."

"Thanks," Wes smiles, his teeth brilliant and smooth. Andy smiles gently in return; he can't resist Wesley's smile. "At this point, I'm so chilled that I doubt that anythin' can be too hot fer me."

But as the older boy takes a sip, he jerks backward and sets his coffee down on the TV tray, his tongue hanging out, clearly red with irritation.

"Yewouch!" he yelps. "Dammit!"

Andy shakes his head and closes the distance between them, brushing his chest against the taller boy's. "I told you it was hot."

"Help me cool my tongue?" Wesley whispers, offering his mouth by pressing his lips to the sandy brunet's chin.

Andy complies after a short breath, nearly a chuckle, at Wesley's choice of words. It almost sounds like he planned this. And Andy wouldn't put it past him.

The younger brunet lifts himself up onto the pads of his feet, matching his lips to Wes's. He holds back a smile as Wesley slips his tongue in. Andy doesn't bother to battle; he simply goes along for the ride, sliding slippery muscle over slippery muscle like a pair of Beta fish mates in a timeless dance.

Without thinking about it, Andy presses himself closer, his arms snaking around to lock together behind the rancher's back. Meanwhile, Andy can feel Wes's hands – always timidly, because he cares too much – pulling him up, holding him close, one forearm pressing against the small of his back and the other tangling in his light brown hair. Secretly, Andy likes it when Wesley holds him like this; it makes him feel comforted and protected, like how he used to when he lived at home.

But there is a boundary between childhood comfort and adult comfort, and this sort of comfort is most definitely the adult type. Woody and Buzz and Jessie and Bullseye and everybody else were his comforts then; but now, as a man in his late teens with his hormones raging… Well. Simply put, his comforts lie elsewhere, in physical contact.

Wesley pulls back his head, letting the two of them catch their breaths around a passionate kiss. But soon they are diving back in again, tongue clashing with tongue a bit more aggressively this time, and the coffee on the small table beside them is becoming a neglected personification of innocent flirting.

Andy feels his hands unclench and start to roam, skimming up and down the slightly rough fabric of Wesley's shirt. His shirt is like many of his others: too many broken buttons to button up so it's left open to reveal a simple white tee underneath; the sleeves torn off just as they curve over the top of Wesley's tanned, muscular shoulders; and almost always plaid, this time a rusty red-and-brown-and-cream combination that brings out the hues of Wesley's eyes and hair.

The younger male sighs lightly as Wes dips his head down to run the faint ridges at the bottom of his front teeth over the skin of Andy's neck, causing the shorter to shiver. The older college boy is playing now, carelessly kissing and nibbling down Andy's neck and collarbones at random.

Suddenly, he stops. "Andy," Wesley says huskily, breathing against the boy's freckle-dusted skin. He glances upward, his brown eyes burrowing deeply into Andy's blue ones. The younger boy knows the routine; it's happened countless times by now, seeing as how it's nearly February, and they've known each other since the end of August.

The routine goes something like this: a little kissing here, a little touching there, and right on cue, Wesley asks permission to go any further, like a gentleman. Andy nearly snorts or rolls his eyes, but instead he smiles, and nods his head as silent consent.

No warning, as per the usual with Wes, and Andy is pinned to the wall. Well, actually, it was the wooden side that helps hold up the foot of his bed and hides his desk from view to create a little working nook, but Andy isn't paying much attention to the details around him. Instead, he's preoccupied with his boyfriend's fingers grazing over his shirt as they slide down to the hem, ready to lift the offending garment up and away.

The sandy brunet flushes as soon as he's exposed to the falsely heated air of his dorm. He knows that he locked the door behind his guest, but it doesn't console Andy any; he feels as though eyes are lurking just outside, itching to burst in on the two of them. He sighs, glancing away momentarily to discreetly hide his blush.

"Ain't nobody to see you but me," Wesley reminds lightly, teasingly. He plants a tender kiss above Andy's heart, feeling it pulsate under his lips. "So there's no need to be 'mbarrassed."

"I know," Andy remarks with another sigh as one of his hands twirl a lock of Wesley's dark chocolate hair, "But I still feel silly anyway. I never did any of this stuff until you came along, you know."

"'M flattered," Wesley murmurs sincerely around another kiss, this time in the divot below Andy's sternum. The boy's chest rises and falls sharply with an intake of breath as Wesley does so, his twirling fingers pausing their ministrations. "Makes me feel special, knowin' I'm the only one who's done this t' you."

"Shut up," Andy retorts mildly, only half of his heart in the phrase. He shuts his eyes, trying not to begin panting as Wesley's warm, calloused hands make their way down his belly and around the curve of his hips to the small of his back, inching just below the waistline of his boxers. The college freshman makes a muffled little noise, his back arcing to press his front closer to Wesley's heated breath.

"Yer always so sensitive," Wes murmurs with a tinge of awe. He smiles amiably. "I like that 'bout you."

"Yeah, well…" Andy returns slowly, trying to keep his breathing relatively calm, "I've… always been that way. Ever since I was a kid."

"Mm, I remember you tellin' me," Wesley nods as his tongue darts out to lick a trail down towards and leading around his younger lover's bellybutton. "'Bout how you were stuck in your own little world of toys and space/western stories."

"Mmhmm," Andy hums, the only semi-intelligible response he can make without letting a moan slip out. The saliva feels cool on his stomach, but is soon being kissed warm again by Wes. He hadn't noticed until now, but Andy's fingers are a tangled mess in Wesley's hair; but only on the top, where it's longer.

The two slide to the floor, Wesley left kneeling between Andy's legs as the shirtless boy's knees give out. Smirking slightly, the taller brunet's hands slide to rest at the base of his boyfriend's thighs.

"Should we stop?" Wes asks around a wonderfully slow kiss to Andy's lips.

"Hell no," Andy returns immediately as he grips the back of a chocolate-mopped head to bring his lover in for another kiss. "I'm having too much fun. Besides, you're warmer now, aren't you?"

"Even without my poor, forgotten coffee," Wesley chuckles airily. He gives another kiss and allows Andy to strip him of his two shirts, plaid and tee, until they are matched bare chest to bare chest.

But as they are skin-to-skin, Andy feels something lying beneath Wes's left pectoral. "Wes?" he murmurs in concern as he leans away enough to see the scar tissue, "Where did this come from?"

It's a large, crescent scar arcing just below toned muscle. It looks like a rainbow, except much more pointed, and seemingly fresh; the scar is still dully pink, and there are ridges around it, like marks from old stitches.

"Oh, that," Wesley mutters glumly. He sighs and sits back a little. He gestures to the scar with one long-fingered hand. "I got this from Rain, a broken dappled mare of ours. But jus' 'cause she was broken doesn't mean she's any more tame than the wild beast she used t' be; the only thing 'broken' 'bout her is that she won't run away." He sighs, running a hand through his cowlicked bangs. "I was ridin' her one mornin' after school let out last year, and Jess was with me, ridin' our favorite stallion, Sun. Rain and Sun are lovebirds, but Rain's too proud and a bit of a rogue to settle down and have babies. Anyway, I was ridin' her, when she suddenly got startled by a 'coon, and reared back, buckin' me off. I held fast, but in the end… she won."

"Rain… kicked you? That's a hoof print?" Andy gasps.

"Horseshoe print, actually," the other sighs. "We shouldda never shoed our horses. Saves their feet, sure, but it delivers a mightier blow to the caregivers if kicked." He shakes his head while idly rubbing the seam of the scar. "Hurt like a son of a gun. I ain't never broken a bone 'til that day. Three of my ribs cracked clean in half."

"Yowza," Andy says, wincing. He touches a hand lightly to the scar, his fingers trailing gently down the curve of the mark. He doesn't miss how Wesley leans in to the touch. "That must have taken a long time to heal."

"Still is healin'," Wesley nods, "But 'nough about me. Where did we leave off?" He grins, sliding up between Andy's legs, his hands touching from the younger's knees and slithering down to his crotch. "Aw yeah, I was about t' do this, if it's okay with you." And he thumbs the button on Andy's jeans.

Normally, the sandy brunet would say no, but he likes the excitement zipping throughout his veins far too much to deny the other brunet. "It's okay with me," Andy breathes.

"Are ya sure?"

"…If you won't de-pants me, I'll do it myself," Andy jokes, but doesn't move. He waits, and naturally, Wesley is chuckling and undoing his lover's pants for him.

"This is def'n'tly diff'rent than bein' with a lady," he teases as he unzips the shorter male's jeans and slides them off of Andy's creamy legs.

Andy rolls his eyes. "Don't do that to me again. I heard enough about Miss Sally Peep while I visited your parents with you over Thanksgiving break. You're gay and with me now, and that's all I care about," he pouts.

Wesley grins knowingly. "I love hearin' you talk like that, Andy. It's cute; it's almost as if you love me."

"You idiot," Andy blushes as he glances at the rug over the hardwood flooring. "You already know that I do."

"Do what?" Wesley teases as he kisses a line down Andy's jaw, bouncing here and there down the length of Andy's slim frame until he's pecking one on the inside of Andy's thigh. The freshman closes his eyes again and vaguely smiles to himself, tickled and a little embarrassed. He knows that Wes is playing with him again, wanting him to say those precious words.

Andy's eyes open again and he states bluntly, "You know what."

"No, I don't…" Wes starts. Without skipping a beat, he slips a digit under the rim of Andy's boxers and shimmies them off of the boy's body. But he has respect; he looks into Andy's eyes instead of at the prize. "Tell me again."

"You're a sly desert rattlesnake," Andy whispers huskily, bringing Wesley's face close. His lids fall at half-mast. "But I'll humor you." He closes his eyes entirely as he licks the lobe of Wesley's ear and mutters with all his heart, "I love you."

"And there it is," Wesley whispers with a satisfied sigh. He nuzzles his nose into the younger boy's neck. "And I love you, too. So much." He does. He really, truly, honestly does. And because he does, he wants to prove it. Prove himself, and his heart, in any way that he can.

Hence, with a lazy, happy smile touching the edges of his mouth, Wesley kisses the junction of Andy's neck and shoulder, mindful that the boy is still holding him. Then, carefully, he removes his own trousers and undergarments until he is as bare as his younger lover.

Using the imaginative freshman's thighs as a lever, he brings the boy into his lap, sitting back onto the rug on the floor. The bed is too high to climb into, and Wes doubts Andy would approve of pausing yet again. (Besides, Wesley is not a fan of bumping his head, and he has a sinking feeling that he will do precisely that is he were up there.)

Andy shudders suddenly in Wes's lap, and curls up against the older boy. He proceeds to suckle at a random spot on the left side of Wesley's neck, feeling the older boy's erection twitch against his abdomen. He smiles lightly, contentedly, and kisses between his lover's collarbones while one of his hands mindlessly swirl around and tweak at one of Wes's nipples.

The older brunet jerks and shivers, one of his hands gently scraping his dull, bitten fingernails down the left of Andy's spine. The younger feels his own length quiver, not used to such feely attention on his body. He nearly whimpers when Wesley's free hand finds said length.

"Nnh!" Andy chokes, and is grip on Wes's back tightens, nails digging into flesh between two strong shoulder blades. "Wes…"

"I'll be gentle, partner," the other whispers tenderly. He quickly kisses at the shell of Andy's ear before startlingly wrapping his fingers around the base of Andy's stiff member.

Andy's never been touched by someone else in the past. He's touched himself, of course, because everybody does at some point, but never by another. He cringes a little, his legs shifting out of Wesley's lap and around the older boy's lean torso, heels digging into the carpet of the rug.

The hand that had been at one of Wes's buds moves to Andy's mouth as he bites one knuckle, fearful of making too much noise. What if someone else in the dorm building hears?

Wesley begins a steady pumping rhythm, his hand caressing the shaft from top to bottom, never mind that the boy in his arms is curiously circumcised, unlike Wesley himself (_Must be a northerner thing,_ he reasons). As he pace quickens, Andy's grip tightens, and the sharp sting on his back helps keep Wesley's mind off of his own desires to focus solely on Andy's.

Andy is panting up a storm now, sweat beginning to shimmer on his forehead where his bangs don't cover. Wesley feels the sandy-haired boy's legs clench around his middle, but Wes doesn't mind. He helps get Andy started, but keeps him from finishing by removing his hand.

"Why –" Andy groans, eyes opening just enough to glance at Wesley's profile.

But the taller brunet says nothing. He leans Andy backward to lie on the rug in front of the single bunk bed. Then, with a brief reassuring smile, the college junior settles between his boyfriend's legs and slides his length against its matching organ, raw and overwhelming.

"Ah –!" the shorter male gasps. He stares unseeing up at the ceiling as his senses wash white, icy-hot and otherwise indescribable as Wesley grinds into him, rocking his pelvis to and fro. Andy squeezes his eyes shut and thrashes his head back and forth as his knees clench around Wes's body, his own hips rising to meet that of the man's above him.

The intense clash of skin and nerves and tips is too much. Andy can't think, can't breathe, can't hear anything; save for the pounding drum of his own heartbeat, echoing loudly in his ears, mingling with the sound of harsh breathing and stifled moans.

He knows that this must be what sex feels like. Not full-blown, anal-canal-and-prostrate-hitting sex, but something so undeniably similar that it makes Andy's head swim. His skin feels sticky with sweat, and too hot, but tingling with an inner fire that almost chills him. He shudders, and a burst of sensation blossoms within him, marking what Andy knows all too well to be his orgasm.

The freshman stuffs his fist into his mouth to mask the biting wail of pleasure he knows would surely be emitted if he let it. He feels Wesley stiffen above him; muscles tense as he ducks his head down onto Andy's shoulder, coming a moment later.

"Andy," Wes hisses harshly in his lover's ear, genuine devotion so evident in his tone that it melts Andy's heart.

He supports the chocolate brunet as the junior collapses atop him. He clings to the rancher's broad shoulders and sturdy form.

Taking on a hint of awe in his voice, Andy comments, "You said my name when you came."

"Did I?" Wesley replies breathlessly. He rolls off of Andy to lie beside him.

He looks at Wes's sweaty profile. "You did," Andy flushes. He closes his eyes, head turned back to the ceiling. "That… actually means a lot to me."

"Hmm," Wesley smiles, eyes shutting as well. "Guess _you_ mus' mean a lot to _me_, then, huh?"

And he brings one arm behind Andy's head to drag him close to his side. The rancher feels his younger lover immediately fit into his side, head resting on his right pec and arm flopping over his belly.

"Y'know, we can't sleep on the floor like this. Our backs'll ache and we'll catch cold," Wes reminds, ever the protective one.

"I know," Andy sighs happily, "But let me stay like this for a little while longer."

"Heh," Wesley chuckles. "Alright, then. Whatever you want."

.End.


End file.
